The Art of Kissing
by foggybythebay
Summary: Dramione. A series of 7 oneshots. Written for dramionedrabbles' Valentine2010 Challenge. These shorts are related only in that they share leading characters and a kiss... of sorts. Expect angst, romance, a bit of Harry, and fluff.
1. First Kiss

**First Kiss: Ask Nicely**

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_A/N This series of oneshots was written for dramionedrabble's 7 Kisses Challenge for Valentines 2010.  
This is the first drabble written for the prompt: First Kiss_

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"Put the wand down, Granger."

"What are you doing Malfoy?"

The sound of my surprised, ragged breath fills the darkened alcove. I'd been checking it while completing my prefect rounds. Only minutes before, I'd discovered Malfoy hiding there, the back of his blond head resting against the stone wall, weary. At hearing my voice, he turns to face me, his shoulder leaning against the same place his back had been only moments before.

"Waiting for you to show up, of course."

The indolent posture and smug smirk belie the spark of fear I discover glimmering in the stormy depths of his gaze. It winks out as soon as I lower my wand.

"Why, Ferret?"

"I've been watching you."

"You're seriously disturbed, Malfoy."

He chuckles mirthlessly.

"I know, Granger."

I step closer to him, worried now. It's been more than a few minutes and he hasn't insulted me yet.

"Are you quite alright, Malfoy?"

_Maybe he'd been hexed or forced to swallow some sort of personality-altering potion._

One more step and I'll be within touching distance. My instinct for self preservation keeps me just out of his reach.

"I will be if you'd come closer, Granger."

"Why?"

"Because I asked, of course."

"But you haven't even used the magic word," I say, smiling to myself because I doubt he'll understand the Muggle request.

"Granger," he all but growls. "Come here."

I dig my heels in at the command.

"No!"

I hear the scuff of his approach. I feel his hand on my arm, his fingers clutching to my school robe. His breath is hot against my cheek. I stand stock-still, feeling him move closer into my personal space.

"Malfoy, what are you doing?!" My alarm is increasing by the moment.

"Something I've been wanting to do for awhile now, Bookworm."

"But you hate me," I cry, feeling his fingers curling the ends of my hair, grazing the small of my back.

I stiffen at his touch.

"That's not true, Granger," his lips whisper against my temple. "I hate what you do to me."

I screw my face in consternation.

_Is this some sort of twisted Slytherin joke?_

_Is Zabini eavesdropping, ready for a good laugh?_

"What are you on about, Malfoy?" I hiss suspiciously.

"I hate that my father's lied to me all these years. I hate that because of him I can't be like... " his words trails off and I feel the rough skin of his cheek against the softness of mine.

"Like what?" I breathe, unsure of this moment, of this boy who I've always thought of as the enemy, upending my idea of him with his touch, his nearness.

"_They_ can hold your hand," he says. I hear the frustration in his tone, and feel him move his hand to enfold mine.

"_They_ can make you laugh," he sighs, untangling the fingers he has in my hair to tenderly touch a corner of my mouth.

"_They_ can show you how much they care for you..." his half-lidded gaze is on my face, the regret clear in his expression. "_This_ is what I hate about you. I hate that in the light of day, you so easily allow _them_ these things, things I know, for me, you'd never..."

I forget to breathe because this is _Malfoy_ saying words that I can barely believe from _any_ boy, let alone _him_!

Malfoy tiredly rests his forehead against mine. His vulnerability at this moment has me instantaneously making up my mind. I can hardly believe the words that steal out of my mouth as I feel his warmth surround me.

"_Never_ is a long time, Malfoy," I say, bravely placing my own hand at the nape of his neck, threading my fingers through the silkiness of his hair there.

I gulp, daring to meet his shocked stare. I move my other hand to run along his jaw pulling him closer as I tilt my face up to his. Our mouths are only centimeters apart.

I feel him urging me ever closer.

"_Please_, Granger," he whimpers.

I lift to my toes and touch my lips against his. The shock of the caress stops the beat of my heart. I suddenly remember to breathe again when he gently moves his mouth to cover mine. I fall into his embrace. I feel his frustration, his confusion, his longing for me in this heart stopping buss. He only lets up for air, as I let out a small gasp.

His hands right me, and I am again standing before him, his hands now at his sides. The only indication we'd touched so intimately is the slight color to his cheeks and the glistening of his lips where I'd only just licked them.

"Why, Bookworm?"

His utterly confused pewter gaze bores into me.

With my palm, I tenderly stroke his cheek and offer him a small sad smile.

"Because you used the magic word, Malfoy."

I slide my hand down to his chest, touching the beating of his heart.

Then, reluctantly, I turn to go.

* * *

_**End Note:** I'm taking a brain break from Draco's Dilemma. I'm still on it, though! I'll be updating this series through the weekend. It is unbeta'd._


	2. Dirty Kiss

**Second Kiss: Dirty Kiss  
_Rating: M_

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**

"This is _your_ fault, Ferret!"

"What?!" I shout, annoyed that we've been given what I deem to be a completely undeserved detention. "You're the one who wouldn't share your notes in the first place!"

"You're the one who decided to steal _my_ notes by charming them into a giant paper bird of prey that attacked McGonagall! I've got to say, Malfoy, of all the dunderheaded things you've ever done, that has got to take the cake," Granger smirks, finding the humor in one of my most embarrassing academic mishaps to date.

"Shut your piehole, Bookworm," I grouch against her prissy voice, but am more irritated that I find her self-rightousness appealing.

"No, you shut it, Malfoy! It was your ridiculous spell that landed us in trouble!"

"I never asked you to help me!" I bellow, striding ahead of her to remove her from my sight. "Honestly, Granger, there must be dozens of other ways to have extricated the bird's talons from McGonagall's hair. You hexed her bald in front of the entire class!"

I savor smirking at her over my shoulder. Her mortified look resembles that of the old bat's when she'd patted her shiny hairless head while Granger's parchment rained down on top of the class in tattered shreds.

Infuriated, McGonagall handed us a most unfortunate afternoon joint detention: collecting flobberworm mucus for the Potions cupboards.

We grumble our way to the greenhouses, heading toward the ditches lined with cabbages, housing the school's flobberworm farm.

"This has got to be the most disgusting detention known to wizard-kind," I shout, thoroughly vexed at Granger, myself, and this hateful thing we have to do together. I can imagine other, much more pleasant, things to do with this witch. The glimmer of such a traitorous thought shining a beacon on how attracted I am to Granger has me yelling a most hateful thing to keep her away throughout this whole ordeal.

"To top it all off, Mudblood, I have to be with _you_!"

Feeling a sharp sting across my derriere, I let out a fearsome yelp. I whip around, catching sight of Granger tucking her wand away, trying to keep herself from hooting with laughter.

"Too bad I don't know a jinx to mimic a powerful kick in the arse, Malfoy. Cease your incessant whining!"

To keep an eye on her, I walk backwards, rubbing my sore bum and grumbling about filthy muggle-bornes dirtying the halls of prestigious wizarding schools.

I am about to share my mutterings when, in slow motion, I watch Granger shoot out an arm as if to grab hold of me.

"MALFOY! WATCH OUT!"

As soon as she shrieks her warning, my next two steps hit only air and I tumble arse-backward into the ditch I'd been planning to throw Granger in.

"Damn it all to bloody hell!" I curse low in my throat. I take silent stock of my body. Other than the painful humiliation of discovering a cabbage leaf crowning my head, my legs askew above me, and the sinking feeling that my robes have soaked up all the dirty still water beneath the vegetation, I am perfectly fine.

I close my eyes, groaning at the indignity of it all.

"Merlin's pants, Malfoy! Are you alright?!"

At the sound of her voice, I cast my gaze skyward and catch a most surprising view of Granger peering down into the ditch where I lay.

_Merlin, indeed! But from my position, there are no pants to speak of. No pants at all!_

I can see straight up Granger's robe and school uniform skirt. A wisp of red lace knickers, leaving little to the imagination, swathe her most nubile bits. The sight of such a sexy thing on such an unlikely person would have struck any red-blooded young wizard deaf and dumb. This is the thought I cling to, consoling myself as I lasciviously appraise the witch above me.

I'd always assumed this innocent, bushy-haired bibliophile only wore knickers of the pristine white grandmama variety.

"Malfoy?! Merlin, Malfoy?! Say something!"

Looking up again to catch a glimpse of scarlet, I wonder just _how_ wrong my assumptions are of her. Shaking my head to clear it, I at last answer.

"Granger! Calm down," I moan, trying to get up.

I realize I can do little without getting myself even more dirty, so, I lay back with an indolent smirk pasted on my face, enjoying the unprecedented view of the legendary bookworm's undies above me. I find myself pleased to find her absolutely befuddled at my behavior.

"Thank gods you're alright, Ferret," she sighs, relieved. Granger moves forward, careful to keep her toes from the edge, giving me an even better view up her skirt.

I groan again. This time it has nothing to do with finding myself so dirty... at least not in the earthen sort of way.

"You don't sound so good, Malfoy," she calls worriedly. "Here, take my hand. I'll help you out."

I wonder why she doesn't think of levitation, perhaps her muggle-ness has her forgetting her magic. I shrug inwardly, already finding I may be able to use this lapse to my advantage.

I hold out my hand, feigning helplessness. I make her do most of the reaching, until, with little stretch from me, I grasp hold of her fingers. The electric shock of her touch has me swiftly pulling away, but she hasn't let go, and without real deliberation on my part, I've pulled her into the ditch and on top of me.

"Ompf!"

Her softness hits my Quidditch-honed muscular chest.

"Granger," I drawl, ignoring the dampness seeping into my back, "fancy meeting you here."

"Malfoy! You did that on purpose!" she spits out, attempting to pummel my chest with a fist.

I grab hold of her wrist before she does any serious damage. My other hand grips her waist and I discover that her weight on me is actually quite delectable.

"Hardly, Granger, you jumped me!" I claim insolently, letting go of her wrist to tangle my hand in the the length of her curls. Her squirming on top of me has me thinking of Runes to distract myself, but it's not long before I have to clasp her bottom to make her stop.

I hear her outraged gasp and before I can remove my hand, she's gathered a clump of wet soil in her palm and planted the muddy mess on my face.

"Granger!" I splutter. I let go of her lush bottom to grab a handful of soil to seek retribution. My fingers curl around something slimy and I aim for her face, but instead, my hand grabs hold of her bosom, rubbing whatever I have in my hand onto the front of her chest. She fills my hand perfectly. Granger lets out a shriek at my gall. She slaps my hand away, splashing more dirt onto her pretty face.

She is quite a sight, this witch above me.

"Malfoy! Get your filthy hands off me!"

The frightened alarm in her voice has me instantly releasing her. She continues to move above me, driving me to near madness. I have to grab hold of her thigh with my soiled fingers to still her.

"Granger," I rasp huskily, "stop bloody moving."

"Stop ordering me around, Ferret!" she rages, her face inches from mine.

I grab a handful of her damp, curly locks in my dirt covered hands, stilling her, trying to capture her angry eyes in my glowering, aroused glare.

"Why should I listen to you, Malfoy? You insufferable arse!"

She does one last slow grind just to be contrary, a show of her offense at my manhandling. Her movement, however, has the apex of her thighs intimately meeting my now apparent desire.

Her eyes grow round.

At last she is still.

I raise an eyebrow and she slits her eyes. My free hand moves to her throat, smearing mud down its length. My other hand still clutches her hair. She curls her lips in her own contemptuous sneer. I want to wipe the very Slytherin look off her face, so I pull her face against mine, dirt and all, capturing her lips with mine.

She makes a tiny sound of protest, but quickly follows suit, threading her soil-encrusted fingers into my hair. In our individual need to dominate the kiss, our mouths and hands attack each other, and we roll over and over among the muddy cabbage heads. I stop to capture her face in my hands when I feel the laughter bubble in her, the merriment shimmers in her eyes.

"What, Granger?" I ask breathless at the beauty beneath me.

She raises a dirt smeared hand to my face, rubbing the soil into my cheek.

"Malfoy, I always thought you'd rather enjoy playing in the mud."

I flash her a dashing Malfoy grin, before claiming her lips again.


	3. Bittersweet Kiss

**Third Kiss: One of a Kind**

* * *

I stand alone in the dark, listening to the clinking of glasses, toasting tomorrow's wedding. I close my eyes against the the brilliance of the stars, thinking of the woman I love.

As if I'd magically summoned her, I feel her hand clasp mine. Surprised, I turn. A lump lodges in my throat at the sight of her joyous, radiant face. I draw up her hand and watch the diamond twinkle in the moonlight.

"Happy, Granger?"

"Deliriously so, Draco," she sighs, her arms coming around my waist, the warmth and softness of her surrounding me. She gazes up at me. I smile into her staggering beauty.

"I'm glad, Hermione."

She draws her arms up from beneath my evening coat to circle my neck, and draws nearer still.

"I've you to thank, you know."

"Hardly, Bookworm," I say wryly, my hands tightening around her waist, hiding the desire in my voice, "You have a special quality about you that even the most moronic of men can recognize."

She laughs, delighted, gracefully pulling up to her toes to place a quick kiss on my cheek. I breathe in her lovely scent as she rests her face against mine.

"Who would have thought we'd be such brilliant friends?" she whispers in my ear. "It means the world to him that you'll be his best man, Draco."

I attempt a smile against her cheek, masking the regret, and the complete shattering of my heart.

"It means the world to me to have been asked, Granger," I manage.

I place my hand tenderly against her cheek as she starts to pull away.

_It's not too late_, my mind screams. _Tell her!_

I rub my thumb lightly against her lips.

She startles. Her dark eyes, confused, whip up to meet mine. I dare to open my mouth, to at last speak the words I'd held in my heart for... far too long.

"Hermione?"

We turn... and the moment is lost.

"Monopolizing my fianceè, Malfoy?" my best friend laughs heartily, slapping my back while swinging her into his arms. I turn away when he dips his head to hers.

"We'll have to find you a girl like our Bookworm, Draco," calls the masculine voice at my retreating back.

"There's no one like her," I say in return, looking back to view her once more. _"She's one of a kind."_

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_Author's Note: Your feedback would brighten my Valentine's Day. :) Thank you to all who are reading._


	4. Public Kiss

**4th Kiss: Something to Show You**

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"Granger!"

I quirk my lips as my best friend speeds up her steps, away from the all too familiar voice.

"Hey, Granger!"

The three of us continue walking down the main hall, weaving our way through the throng of classmates traveling to classes, all too used to ignoring the calls of this insufferable prat.

"Hermione!"

_Well, that's new._

I grind to a halt and turn to look at my best friend. The sound of her name shouted out by this particular Slytherin seems to have stunned Hermione mid-step, freezing her in place, reminding me of her countenance after the Basilisk attack. I catch Ron's eye above our friend's bushy head. His expression is as alarmingly confused as mine.

I realize I've taken for granted how quickly the Slytherin can snake his way through an obstacle course of curious onlookers. All too soon, he's in front of us. His steely-eyed stare is fixed on Hermione. I wonder at the emotion there. It doesn't look a bit like the hatred I'm used to seeing from him when in the past, he'd tormented her with vile names.

From the corner of my eye, I see Ron in fighting stance, clutching his wand. Surprised, I realize I'd instinctively adopted the same posture.

"Oi! Malfoy!" Ron grinds out, "What do you want?" Ron doesn't say this as bitingly as I believe I would have.

How dare the ferret approach us in the middle of a crowded corridor for what's sure to be an ugly confrontation starring Hermione.

I move to block his way, but feel her hand on my forearm, silently asking me to stay put.

"What is it, Malfoy," she asks quietly.

I am surprised there is no acidity in her tone. I am equally stunned when I notice how the sneer Malfoy initially shot at Ron and me slides off his face and forms into what can only be characterized as a much softer look at our Hermione.

_What's going on?_

"Hermione?" I whisper.

"It's OK, Harry," she assures quietly, her face still averted to view the blond who continues to stare at her...

... expectantly. As though he's waiting for _permission? _

"We weren't done back there, Bookworm," he says softly, gazing at her as though the rest of the school wasn't looking on.

"I was under the impression that _you_ weren't ready," she says, annoyance in her tone.

Malfoy's lips thin, looking around now, seeming to consider her response while attempting to pick some faces out of the gathered crowd. He nods almost imperceptibly before continuing, ignoring Ron's and my presence beside Hermione.

"You're the one who left before I could respond to your ridiculous assumptions," he says, just as perturbed. "You had the last word, and you, _Hermione_, aren't the only one who gets a say in _this._"

"What the bloody hell are the both of you talking about?!" Ron asks, exasperated. An unknown assailant in the crowd sends a _Silencio!_ his way and he's quickly silenced.

Malfoy sends out a grateful smile to the culprit I can't see.

"What do you have to say, then, Ferret?" Hermione bites out at the wizard in front of her.

"I've nothing to say to you, yet, witch," he responds with a thread of a threat woven into his tone. "But I do have to show you something first."

"Well, go on then, I'm waiting," she says, lifting her chin in defiance.

I watch, alarmed, as he steps closer. I hold up my wand at him.

"Malfoy," I warn. "Step back."

With a bit of a snarl, the Slytherin impatiently bats my wand hand away and moves forward, disregarding my threat.

"Shut it, Potter. She's had this coming for a long time."

He grabs Hermione up against him and to my utter horror, I watch his head dip down to hers, claiming her mouth in an unbelievable, crowd-silencing kiss that has him tipping her slightly backward. Had she shown any sort of protest against his advances, I would have stepped in. But like the others around me, I am stunned at this turn of events.

I am further shocked as I watch Hermione's book bag slowly slip from her shoulders and her arms encircle the neck of my fore sworn enemy. I'm standing so close to her I can hear her mewl of need and his responding groan. After a minute of utter silence, there is a quiet smattering of applause, a wolf whistle, and a muggle-like shout of, "Get a room!"

Malfoy at last lifts his head from hers to view the twin open-mouthed looks of abject horror on Ron's and my face.

The amused grin on his face is intolerable. He turns to greet his audience.

"Red! Pans!" Malfoy calls out to the people around us. "Please do come claim your dunderheaded boyfriends before they start to catch flies in their mouths."

Ginny and _Pansy_, of all people, step forward. I watch Ron's abashed face flush nearly as red as his hair.

"_Pansy?_ Really, Ron?!" I exclaim incredulously. The female Slytherin sends me a sly smile, pocketing her wand, as she catches Ron up in a hug saying, "Sorry love, you were getting a bit cheeky. It'll wear off soon." The closeness between them is clearly familiar and long-practiced. Pansy cocks an eyebrow at me in silent dare, as Ginny grabs hold of my own arm.

"Ginny, you knew about this?" I squeak, looking down.

"Indeed, Potter," comes the sardonic drawl beside me. "_Your_ girlfriend was the one who convinced me that _you_ could handle this unexpected news."

"I love them both, Harry," Ginny implores. "Hermione and Ron deserve to be as happy as the both of us!"

I turn to my best friend beside me.

"Are you sure _this_ makes you happy, Hermione?" I gesture toward my nemesis.

A pretty blush spreads across her cheek, her hand still in Malfoy's.

"He makes me incredibly happy, Harry."

I eyeball the Slytherin before me. My chin juts out, and my jaw clenches, trying valiantly to comprehend this avalanche of the unexpected.

"Look, Potter," Malfoy sighs, capturing Hermione around the waist with one arm. "You and I may never see eye to eye on a great many things. Merlin knows I have many things I regret and am ashamed to have been a part of, but," he casts an almost adoring glance at the girl I thought I knew like a sister, "one thing is sure, _Harry_, I will never regret overcoming the bigotry I'd been raised with and I will never be ashamed to let the Wizarding world know that I am most whole when Hermione is at my side."

The radiant smile I see on Hermione's face silences the words of protest that I'd been ready to bellow out at the both of them.

At the look they share, I know that Ginny is right. After all that has passed, Malfoy and Hermione both deserve all the happiness they can hold.

I silently nod my understanding.

He sends me one of gratitude.

"Right you are, Malfoy, but there is one thing we will always see eye-to-eye on," I say levelly, "Hermione's happiness. Keep her happy, Ferret, or you'll have much to answer for."

"But of course, Potter," Malfoy smirks. "I wouldn't expect any less from the savior of the Wizarding world."

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**_Author's note:_**

**_:) Happy Valentine's Day!_**


	5. Forbidden Kiss

**Fifth Kiss: Hunger**

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_Rating: M-15  
Notes/Warning: Angst. Dark.; non-con, Almost poetry, still a narrative._

* * *

Captured.

Chained.

Snatchers found us.

Took us.

Threw me in here.

Cold

Dark

A dungeon

Lost count of the days.

Hungry.

Alone.

A door creaks.

Approaching footsteps.

Blond.

Sneering.

Malfoy.

_Bloody Ferret._

My teeth gnash.

"Granger," he jeers, "caged like the animal you are."

I seethe.

Stand my ground.

Eyes flashing

daring him come close.

He does.

Too close.

Stomach rumbles.

His laugh, raspy and rude.

"Hungry, Hellcat?"

A finger slides against my cheek.

Tracks of tears

thankfully dried.

I spit at him.

A grimace

His.

He wipes away the mess

from his cheek.

Strong fingers

curl into my hair.

A sharp pull on my scalp.

A cry.

Mine.

His smile, malevolent.

"My father's upstairs."

Whispers slither over my skin.

"My wicked aunt, too."

I snarl.

"The Dark Lord is here, Mudblood."

I turn my face away.

"No one knows I'm down here with you."

I try to pull out of his grasp.

"You have no idea," he breathes,

holding me tight,

"what this might cost me."

Fingers grasp my chin.

Forcing my face to his.

Eye contact.

Cold steel meets fertile soil.

His face fills my vision.

Filled with undefined emotion.

"You'll _never_ know, Granger."

His eyelids flutter.

My eyes widen.

His head bends.

My heart stops.

Lips touch.

My mind shuts.

Breath intermingles

Tongue enters.

The world tilts.

Desire blooms.

Hatred, too.

I stiffen.

Fight.

He holds fast.

Punishing.

An onslaught

of unspoken,

unwanted longing.

From just one kiss.

Hunger.

All consuming.

A tear.

_Not mine._

Slides down my cheek.

"I'm sorry," he breathes.

Forehead to mine.

His hand

comes to my mouth.

Slipping something

between my lips.

I bite.

Ripe.

Sweet.

A slice of peach.

Springtime.

"I'm sorry, _Hermione_."

A sigh.

Release.

Still chained.

A swish of robes.

Retreating footsteps.

He is gone.

I am

still alone.

Captured.

* * *

_Author's note:_

_ Valentine hearts to** voldyismyfather**, **FreyHey**, and **Wh1tn3y** for being so gracious as to take the time to review. *hugs* to you for dropping me a note to tell me you enjoyed it (or not!) Your words are better than chocolate... well, almost! ;) LOL!_


	6. Shy Kiss

**Sixth Kiss: Ever After**

* * *

_Flashback - First Year_

* * *

"Malfoy, you prat. Of course, _you_ don't believe in fairytales."

"Fairies don't have tails, Granger. You'd know that if _you_ were pureblood."

..._Later, in the library_...

With a thud, she drops the Muggle book on the table where I study.

I glance at the title, _Beauty and the Beast_.

"I'll give you a guess which one I think _you_ are, Malfoy."

"Well, Granger, I think it's safe to say that _you_ are not _Beauty_."

* * *

_Guilty Pleasures_

* * *

The sound of the rain encourages me to seek out the sanctuary of the Hogwarts library this lazy Saturday afternoon.

I make my way to a little used corner since its shelves are full of Muggle books. I look around before charming the straight-backed wooden chair into a cushy armchair, wide enough for me to curl into. I think wistfully of Crookshanks, wishing he was here to cuddle. I bend to reach for a book on the lower shelf.

_Pride and Prejudice_.

My guilty pleasure, an escape from post-war reality.

I smile and settle into the softness of my seat to indulge in this fantasy, a world where a bright girl like me can imagine falling in love with prickly Mr. Darcy.

_

* * *

Studying_

_

* * *

_

Just as I suspect, she is here.

Clever of her to transfigure that chair. Recalling the numerous hours of studying in this place, and the resulting sore bum, I wish I'd thought to do something like that _years _ago.

She smiles into her book. Soft. Sultry. A faraway look in her eyes.

What is she reading? It doesn't look like _Hogwarts a History_. She looks far too pleased. Maybe it's one of those fairytales she used to yammer on about, years ago, when the world was a different place.

Running my hand through my blond hair, I make a mental note to discover the title.

I take a seat across the room, partly hidden from her view. I focus on cramming for the O.W.L.S., but am mindful of her. After all, the girl with the untidy, cascading hair is my water break.

The mere sight of her quenches a long-denied thirst.

* * *

_An ending... of sorts_

* * *

"Reading your fairytales again, Granger?"

I look up. The boy I'd always imagined as my very own Darcy stands above me, a teasing smile playing at his lips. _Romance novels are far from reality_, I scold myself, feeling the heat steal into my cheeks at my unbidden thoughts of him.

"I'm afraid I don't believe in them anymore," I whisper regretfully, shutting my finger in the book, a makeshift bookmark.

"Why?" he asks, sitting on the arm of my chair, looking down.

"War tends to steal away dreams of happily ever after," I mumble sorrowfully. His head dips closer to hear my reply. I deliberately lose my place to nervously run my fingers along the embossed title.

My private fantasy of this boy and me is etched on the pages of the book clutched on my lap. I flush at his inspection of my fidgeting hand. He nears, narrowing his eyes to discern the title. I breath in the spicy scent of him.

_It's a Muggle book_, I remind myself, calming the hammering of my heart. _He wouldn't have read it._

"Pride and Prejudice, Granger?" he asks, his fingers lightly touching mine. "I thought you don't believe in happy endings?"

My eyes turn to his, surprised. The molten silver that meets my brown only hints at the sort of man he's shaping to be. _A good man, if truth be told._

"You've read it?" I gasp, stunned. "But you-"

"Hermione," he says carefully, "the recollection of what I then said – of my conduct, my manners, my expressions during the whole of it – is now, and has been many months, inexpressibly painful to me. My object then…was to show you, by every civility in my power, that I hoped to obtain your forgiveness, to lessen your ill-opinion by letting you see that your reproofs had been attended to."

My mouth drops open in utter shock at his perfect recitation of my most favored quote from my treasured Mr. Darcy.

"Yes, Granger, I've read it," he replies, unabashed.

I redden, my eyes averted, suddenly shy, now that he'd discovered this secret part of me. I cannot look at him, just as I cannot help but remember all of the good he's done to get us here.

"And I think I know which character I am," he chuckles softly, harking back to a simpler day, long ago.

I flit a bashful glance at him.

"I forget, though," he whispers flirtatiously, tracing a lazy pattern on the back of my hand with his slightly roughened fingertips, "if they would allow such advances upon a lady as the one I hope you'll allow me?"

I lower my eyes to catch sight of our fingers, somehow now intertwined on top of the book.

"What would you do, Hermione, if you were Elizabeth and I was your Darcy?"

I feel his other hand stealthily move to cradle my jaw, caressing my cheek, touching just under my chin, tilting my face up to his. From beneath my lashes, I peer at him, sliding my gaze to his mouth.

"Would you kiss me?" he breathes, "If you were her?"

His head lowers, his mouth tantalizingly close.

"Would you, Hermione?" he quietly prompts again.

I whimper, feeling the soft breeze of his breath against my slightly parted lips. Timidly, I give in to the temptation of him. Such sin. The warmth of his lips heats me, and along with this undeniably beautiful caress comes the whirling, out-of-control sensation of my heart taking flight.

Shyly, before he can deepen our shared intimacy, I withdraw, embarrassed by my inexperience. His fingers still grasp mine, disallowing me to pull away. I watch his tongue slip out to touch his lips, tasting the part of me I'd left behind.

"I think you're lying, Granger."

His gentle words are a revelation, not an accusation. I knit my brows. He places a butterfly kiss on the furrow to ease my disquiet.

"I think you still believe in happy endings," he clarifies, his words tickling my lashes.

With a sheepish grin, I squeeze his fingers and move our hands to cover the title of my book.


	7. Goodnight Kiss

**Final Kiss: Collision Course**

* * *

_**Dedicated to my Valentine. Thanks for the idea, Love.**_

* * *

He's walking toward her.

The hall is crowded with students intent on putting their affections on display. St. Valentine's Day madness keeps her from neatly stepping out of the way before he spies her.

"Move, Granger."

_Too late._

Resentfully acknowledging his presence, Hermione stops mid-stride for only a moment.

"_You_ move, Malfoy."

With that, she tucks the book she's carrying under her arm, and sends him a hateful glare before steadfastly continuing forward. Believing he dare not touch her, she plays a game of chicken with the Slytherin, heading straight for his tall, lithe, obnoxious form. Silently challenging him not to be the first to stray off-course.

Before they collide, Draco sidesteps, grabbing hold of the strap of her bookbag. With it, he pulls her off balance, toward him and an oncoming stone wall. Releasing a sharp sound of dismay, she quickly regains footing, only to discover him too close for comfort. Placing a hand on the wall to steady herself, she unwillingly catches a whiff of his expensive cologne.

"I told you to move."

Menace laces his voice, his hand still grasps her strap. February morning light streams through the windows, flint-colored eyes flash silver. Against her ear she hears his harsh breath, so labored he might have run a marathon.

"And I told you the same," she replies acidly, stiffening at his nearness. "Let go of my bag."

His fingers release and his hand drops, but not before he steps closer. The heat of him bounces off of her in the infinitesimal space he's left between them. The spicy scent of him surrounds her.

Intoxicating.

But she can nearly feel his disdainful sneer before she defiantly juts up her chin. She flicks a glance at his mouth to confirm it is there. It is. Those insolent lips remind her just who he is.

Such comfort.

Malfoy's silence is more unnerving than any snide remark. The intensity of his stare has her insides squirming. There's an undefinable, unsettled look in the depths of his gaze. But it is gone so quickly she wonders if it was ever there.

"We share prefect duty tonight, Granger," he announces curtly, as though just remembering. "Do not be late."

With a sharp turn of his heel, he is gone, and she can breathe again.

Despite his abhorrence of tardiness, Draco is late for Potions. The only seat open is the one beside _her_. He groans, unhurried in his approach. She's to be his partner due to his unexpected delay. She seems less acerbic since their earlier confrontation, but her instant scowl at the sight of him has Draco snarling back.

"Saving this seat for me?" The words are teasing. His churlish tone is not. She sniffs her reply and turns to their assignment. She drags something off the table and turns again to him.

"Make yourself useful, you lazy prat," she hisses, thrusting the ingredient list at him.

Silver eyes never leave brown as he reaches for the parchment. He stiffens as he feels his fingers close around hers. The immediate look of alarm in her eyes is insulting. His grip on her tightens.

First touch.

Accidental.

Electric.

They both feel it.

Blaise notices his friend and the Mudblood. He raises an eyebrow toward Pansy who also hasn't let Draco's uncharacteristic behavior go unnoticed.

"Let go, Granger," Draco's voice deepens with command.

"How, Malfoy?" She attempts to wiggle her fingers out from under his. The small movement beneath his palm reminds him it must be him who drops his hand.

Again.

He does.

Both sigh, not quite in disappointment, nor in absolute relief.

The cauldron bubbles. He can't see. Her head is in the way. He dares enter her space. She freezes at the feel of his torso against her side. He's as firm as she'd always imagined. She feels a tug. He'd reached over to pull at her untidy mass of unruly waves.

"Do you ever brush it?" he leans further forward, snidely placing the criticism in her ear. "It's as though something furry died on the top of your head."

His additional movement brings her curves against the hardness of him. He wonders at the unexpected sensation of her feminine body beneath the robes. His fingers continue to absently toy with a curl.

"Hands off, Ferret," she grinds out, eyes blazing, hands shoving him away before turning back to their work. He's stunned, barely registering her hands on his person.

Soft.

Her hair was so soft.

Ron and Harry share a worried glance as they survey the exchange. Both grow concerned at the curious twinkle in Malfoy's eye, which he now aims at their friend busily stirring the pot.

In the darkened corridor, lit only with the flames of a nearby torch, she taps her toe on the cobblestone. Her arms are crossed at her chest. Annoyed, her eyes alight on the blond wizard coming toward her.

"You're late, Malfoy."

"You're early, Granger."

She huffs.

He smirks.

Fun game, this.

When she'd volunteered for this night's duty she had no idea the Slytherin beside her had done the same. He seems as reluctant as she to continue their slow walk through the castle on this red heart holiday.

Too many couples in passionate embrace. Too many darkened corners hiding young love. Too many needy sounds reaching their ears from behind closed classroom doors.

Both hasten before performing their jobs to clear the rooms.

There's been too many classmates casting them looks of disdain at their intrusions. Too many unveiled insinuations thrown at Hermione and Draco for volunteering to be together this night. Too many sly knowing smiles sent their way that neither prefect seems to understand.

The night duty is at last over.

Each lets out a breath neither realized they'd been holding. They stand awkwardly at the fork leading to their respective common rooms. Each taking silent stock of the events of this night.

Ten times their hands had brushed. Three accidental. Four due to his curiosity. Three because of hers.

Five times their eyes met in heated gaze. Each time their glances swiftly flew to examine curious onlookers in painted portraits. Except _once_, in the darkness of an abandoned classroom, when their eyes held one another in quiet regard.

Thrice did he recall the feel of her body against his. His attempts to cease such traitorous thoughts had been a herculean chore.

Once was she reminded of the intoxicating scent of him when an errant breeze delivered the spicy mystery of him her way.

Both shift where they stand, wanting desperately to ignore the undesired attraction that everyone else seems to see.

They stand facing the other, exchanging a nod. She turns without a farewell. But before she can walk away, he reaches to grab her hand.

Eyes lock.

No words.

They move closer.

His breathing is ragged.

Her heart is thrumming.

His stormy gaze rakes her face as if etching this moment into his memory. She lets out a small gasp at his unabashed scrutiny. His fingers tighten into hers. The moment in Potions, relived. Soft curves meet hard planes. Echoes of the soft needy sounds they'd heard earlier during their rounds emanate from their own lips.

His head dips, her face rises. The pull between them... undeniable.

Breathing as one, their lips threaten to seize the other's. A tumult of emotions ensnares them both.

This want.

This need.

Is mutual.

Then a moment of sanity.

Before they collide, each turns aside.

A soft touch of lips is placed on each offered cheek.

A breath.

A smirk.

Such comfort.

Eyelids at half-mast, fingers releasing hers, he whispers huskily, "Goodnight, Granger."

With a shake of her head, and the tiniest of smiles, she turns toward Gryffindor tower.

"Goodnight, Malfoy, and Happy Valentine's Day," is her breathy reply.


End file.
